


Sad Yasuhara

by Charles_clain



Category: Ghost Hunt
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10798623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charles_clain/pseuds/Charles_clain
Summary: Yasuhara has depression, and learns how much his friends mean to him.





	Sad Yasuhara

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction deals with depression, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts and this may be triggering to some readers.

The smile was often fake.

 

School was an excuse to keep busy. A way to keep his mind off of joining Sakauchi-kun where ever he may be now.

 

Yasuhara tried to rationalize with his depression. Telling himself that he didn’t have a reason to be depressed. Other people had it worse off than him, why should he complain.

 

But the scars were proof that hadn’t worked. The weeks in the hospital healing after the first attempt in middle-school were proof that his depression wasn’t leaving without a fight.

 

So he tried to fight, but when his depression fought back it drew blood. The scars drawn across his arms proof that he had survived. Proof that he had been able to fight back hard enough that he had survived with nothing but scars.

 

Keeping busy was his way of fighting back. With as many classes as he could fit into his schedule, this was his weapon. He was able to fight back and tell himself that he was too busy to be depressed. He allowed himself to be depressed only when he had nothing to do.

 

At night he lied awake, at this time he could not hold off the thoughts. His mind wandering to the scissors in his drawer, his ever-changing prescription on the bedside table, the rope he hid under his bed. He’d force himself out of bed, take a midnight run and come back so exhausted that his body couldn’t do anything but fall into bed and sleep for the few hours before he needs to get up for school.

 

An endless cycle of doctor’s appointments, changing medications, thoughts he pushes to the back of his mind, and fighting to survive the hell that his mind has made for him.

 

Sitting in the SPR office doing homework was the only time he was able to forget that he was living with depression. His happiness coming to him as easy as blinking. His smile appearing as naturally as breathing.

 

When he sees the smile spread across someone’s face, the heart that he was so certain had forgotten how to beat with anything but the purpose of keeping him alive, skipped a beat in an attempt to learn how to love again.

 

This group was a better cure than the dozens of medications he had been prescribed, than hours of therapy sessions. This group was able to exercise the ghost that lived in the haunted house that was his mind. Every laugh was another drop of fuel that he used to fight back. Every kind word was another weapon to fight with.

 

With these friends he could survive.


End file.
